


Symphony

by whovianawholock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:58:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianawholock/pseuds/whovianawholock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The eerie song of Sherlock Holmes's violin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symphony

The haunting melody echoed in the dusk, a lone violin singing a tragic tale. The chilling, ominous howling of the cold wind added to the sound of despair.

A group of ravens and crows had gathered around one tombstone in the graveyard.

Standing in front of the stone was a pale, thin figure in dark clothing. He held a dark violin. The source of the music. He ignored the birds and continued playing.

Meanwhile, a man was walking past the black gates of this lawn of death to pay homage to an old friend. He heard the eerie, baleful tune coming from the general direction of his destination. It was far away, but sound traveled well there. The land was flat, and any trees that had once grown there had long since withered away, as if they had given in to the depressing, dreary, almost sinister nature of the place.

Everything here was death.

The only colors were black and grey. Even the decayed grass, which should have been brown, was a dull and monotonous grey.

The man knew that he didn't belong there. It was a place only for the dead. But he ignored the icy terror creeping up his spine. He needed to do this. To pay his respects to his friend.

As he got within sight range of the music, he noticed the ring of black birds. This was not a superstitious man, he had never believed in omens or any of that nonsense, but this was unusual and frightening. He absentmindedly remembered that a group of crows was called a murder.

These birds, these prophets of destruction, were the only living things there, and they resided there in great numbers. And every single one of them had gathered to hear this music.

The man got closer, proceeding with great caution.

Soon, the piece reached its crescendo, and the birds reacted immediately, and in such a manner that one would think it had been choreographed. They took to the air and swirled around the pale figure as he played the dramatic ending to his symphony.

The man looked at the gravestone behind the ghostly figure. It was the only white stone in the cemetery.

This was the grave of his friend.

He stepped closer. "Even in death you're a better musician than I." He commented.

The figure set down his violin and it vanished. He smiled. "I'm surprised you came. It's been awhile."

"Yes it has. I had to come once more. This is the last time."

"But you will come back to me in the end, won't you?"

"Of course, my friend." The man placed a handful of red roses in the hands of the figure. The only color in the entire place.

"Thank you. I will see you then, my friend." The figure smiled.

The man nodded and left silently.

The figure set down the flowers and began another melody, summoning the ravens and crows to escort his friend safely away from the graveyard.

The next time the man came, there was a second white gravestone next to the first. A few years had passed, and the man's gift of color had long since embraced its fate and died.

But the figure was still there, exactly as he had been. Waiting to greet his friend.

"Hello again." The man said. He was now as pale as his companion.

"I've missed you." The figure said with a smile.

"You won't have to miss me anymore. I'm here now."

The figure nodded and picked up his violin. He sat in front of the two white stones and began to play, gesturing for his friend to join him.

The man sat with him, and his friend began to play his song.

The birds returned to their master, for whom they had so much respect. They perched wherever they could hear the melody.

But none sat on the white gravestones of their master and his friend.

The stones, side by side, were labeled with nothing but names.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES" "JOHN HAMISH WATSON"


End file.
